


You're Crying Inside Your Bedroom, Baby I Know It's Not Fair

by PepperSoniRoni



Series: Batfam Whumptober 2020 [6]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Parent Ra's al Ghul, Canonical Child Abuse, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Damian Wayne Gets a Hug, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Good Sibling Tim Drake, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, Nightmares, Protective Tim Drake, Sibling Bonding, Whipping, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26958574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperSoniRoni/pseuds/PepperSoniRoni
Summary: A soft whimper came from behind the door, which would have been noticeable if it hadn’t been for the still night. Tim pursed his lips, and made a split second decision. He grabbed the handle and tested it. Unlocked. He eased it open and slipped into Damian’s room. The boy looked small in the large bed, curled in on himself.Tim frowned at the sight of his brother, at his wet face and trembling limbs. At the way he began to claw at his back. He was having a nightmare, and it must be bad.AKA- Damian dreams about his time in the League and is comforted by the only brother awake at the unholy hour: Tim.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Damian Wayne
Series: Batfam Whumptober 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950187
Comments: 13
Kudos: 334
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	You're Crying Inside Your Bedroom, Baby I Know It's Not Fair

**Author's Note:**

> I have a thing or Tim & Dami hurt/comfort. I'm not sorry. They're just too cute!
> 
> TW: child abuse (both physical and emotional), whipping (I'm not sure if this is graphic or not, I have warnings for both).

_ “You are an utter disappointment,  _ _ Ibn al Xu'ffasch.” _

_ Damian looked down at his feet. The test the eight year old had just completed had not gone as smoothly as his Grandfather had hoped, so now the boy had been brought forward for reprimanding. _

_ “An Al Ghul does not accept weakness, an Al Ghul completes whatever task is set before them promptly and without error,” Ra’s Al Ghul continued, “And yet you allowed yourself to be overwhelmed by your adversaries. No matter how many stand in your way, you should have succeeded. CUt down whoever stands in your way to greatness.” _

_ “I understand, Grandfather.” Damian said quietly at the completion of the lecture. He lifted his head to look at Ra’s’ reaction. _

_ “No,” Ra’s said, with steely confidence. “I do not think you do.” He turned his back on his grandson. “To truly understand your defeat, you must be aware of the consequences. I believe seventy-five lashes will do.” _

_ Damian’s eyes widened ever so slightly. It was expected, of course, but seventy-five? He’d never had that many before, his mother would always step in before that happened. But she was in Paris now, there was no one to save him. _

_ Ra’s signalled a flock of League initiates, and Damian was instantly swarmed. The darkly clothed bodies pulled him down to his hands and knees, stripped him of his shirt, and held him steady. There was a moment of stillness, and Damian found himself struggling to keep from tensing his muscles. Then the whip made it’s first landing. _

_ His back screamed in pain, the sharp crack leaving a line of burning agony down his spine. It was as if his back had been split in two, with a canyon of ruined flesh between the two. _

_ He let out a gasp of pain, but didn’t allow himself to produce any more weak noises. He didn’t have much time, however, as the whip returned with a vengeance, a few centimeters to the right of its first passing. This one hurt just as much as the first, though Damian was more prepared for the sensations. _

_ The whip dropped viciously again and again and again. He felt the blood begin to slowly drip down the wounds and onto the sparse sections of unruined skin, down further till it dripped on the backs of his bare feet. _

_ Then, the whip’s master changed tactics. Damian let out a surprised scream as the whip landed on an already existing slash. The pain cut deeper than before, and was twice as painful.  _

_ “Hmm.” Ra’s said, sounding uninterested. “For that, twenty more.” _

_Damian whimpered silently, hoping that the whipper hadn’t meant to hit the same place, and it wouldn’t happen again._

_It did._

_ The whip repeated the same tactic, choosing a lighter slash this time, driving the wound deeper than before. His whole back felt like it was on fire, the burning intense and blanketing. _

_ A few more lashes and they had made it to fifty. _

_ It was on the fifty-first that the whip first hit bone. _

_ Damian cringed harshly and was brought down to his elbows. The whip didn’t let up. A few more blows and he felt a spot on the bottom right section of his back peel away. If he could see it, he would have sworn that pearly white gleamed out of the red. _

No more _ , he thought desperately. He hadn’t taken much more than this before, the torture was usually switched to some other technique.  _

_ But no one heard any of his silent please - and even if they had, his Grandfather would have just increased the number of lashings. The whip kept dropping with a steady rhythm of pain. The cracks came one after another. The blows came. _

_ Again. _

_ And again. _

_ And again. _

_ And  _ again _. _

_ He wanted so badly to beg. Beg for the pain to stop. Beg for his Grandfather’s forgiveness. Beg or his mother, who so rarely showed the affection he craved. _

_ But he didn’t. _

_ Damian bit his tongue as the whip kept coming. He tasted the blood in his mouth soon enough, and tried to use the metallic tang to ground himself. It didn’t work. With each crack he was brought right back to pain that his world had become, there was no calming space in his mind he could retreat to. _

_ It was at the eightieth strike that he finally broke. _

_ “Stop, please.” he cried out, tears breaking through his once firm resolve. _

_ His Grandfather turned back to him, and Damian knew with all his heart that he was going to regret those words. _

*****

Tim sighed down at the empty coffee mug in his hand. He’d been working on a case for the past few hours, and coffee had been his one true love for the majority of the time. But now his love was gone.

Time for a refill.

Tim stood up from his nest of papers atop his bed and grabbed his three different mugs. Might as well get stocked up.

He walked out of his door, closing it quietly - if Bruce caught him, he’d be sent to bed immediately, and this case needed solving - and slid down the long corridor that the bedrooms took up. It was quiet - most people were out of town or staying at their own places. Tim paused at the doors whose occupants  _ were _ present. Bruce, who was at the end of the hall, was still; he seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Or he was at Selina’s. Duke’s room was quiet, he’d been asleep for longer, pros of having a so-called ‘normal sleep schedule.’ 

Tim continued down till he reached the hall connecting the current wing of the house. As he walked past Damian’s door, however, he froze.

A soft whimper came from behind the door, which would have been noticeable if it hadn’t been for the still night. Tim pursed his lips, and made a split second decision. He grabbed the handle and tested it. Unlocked. He eased it open and slipped into Damian’s room. The boy looked small in the large bed, curled in on himself. 

Tim frowned at the sight of his brother, at his wet face and trembling limbs. At the way he began to claw at his back. He was having a nightmare, and it must be bad.

He rushed forward as quietly as he could, and eased himself onto the bed. Tim reached out his hand and, praying that he wouldn’t get stabbed, rustled Damian’s shoulder.

He wasn’t attacked.

Instead, Damian scrambled back, his eyes wide and unseeing. Tim’s heart broke as he saw his brother in such a state. Whatever he was seeing had to be horrible for him to flee rather than fight.

“Dami, it’s me,” Tim called quietly. He wanted to reach out and hug the little brat - crap, what had Dick done to him? - but wouldn’t dare for fear of startling him again.

Damian blinked slowly, still shivering. “Timothy?” He asked, tucking his knees up to his chin.

“Yeah, Dami,” Tim said, leaning slightly closer. “I came in to check on you. Are you alright?”

He clearly  _ was not  _ alright, but Tim knew his brother was a prideful little chicken nugget, and wouldn’t dare admit he’d been crying.

But then the kid surprised him.

Damian launched forward and into Tim’s arms, wrapping around his torso and tucking his tear-stained face into his chest.

“I’m in the manor?” he asked timidly.

Tim blinked for a moment. “Yeah, we’re in your room. You’re safe here.”

He slowly wrapped his arms around Damian, but froze when the boy flinched. Tim searched his mind for what he’d done wrong, before remembering the sight he’d seen just minutes before. 

Damian clawing at his back.

Tim eased his arms around again, pulling the younger boy into his lap, while trying to avoid his back.

“You’re okay, Damian.” Tim whispered when Damian began to tremble again. “We’re home.”

“Grandfather …” Damian began and Tim had to resist the urge to stiffen. Of course he was having nightmares about Ra’s, the b*astard still had his hold on the kid, despite not seeing him for four years now.

“Shh,” Tim said, stroking Damian’s hair, “he’s not here. You’re safe.”

“But I failed,” Damian choked out, the tears returning.

Tim scooched further onto the bed, grabbing some blankets from where they’d been haphazardly thrown off in the child’s panic.

“You don’t need to be perfect anymore, Damian.” Tim spoke softly as he readjusted himself and began to wrap his brother in a cocoon as best as he could with him still wrapped around Tim. They’d found out a while back that the pressure calmed boy significantly. “I know it’s not fair what happened to you. What Ra’s did. But it’s over. You’re home.”

Damon sniffled and pressed harder into Tim’s chest. 

“Come on,” he whispered, “get it out. It’s alright to cry.”

He wasn’t sure if the small Wayne believed him, but Tim kept whispering into his ear. He wished he could tell his brother that none of it was real, that he would be safe forever, and nothing could ever hurt him again. But that wasn’t their lie. And Tim didn’t want to lie.

So instead he told his brother what he knew was true. That Ra’s was gone. That the League didn’t have him anymore. That right here, right now, Tim wasn’t going to let anything in. That Damian could sleep, that he was safe here in the manor. In his room. In Tim’s arms.

Damian gradually relaxed, the tense muscles loosening. He didn’t stop holding onto Tim, but the older boy didn’t complain. It was nice, honestly.

“Shhh,” Tim said when the tears had calmed down to slow hiccups. He stroked his brother’s dark hair, before pressing a kiss into it. 

A few minutes later, and even the hiccups subsided. Damian sighed and nuzzled Tim’s now soaked shirt. He chuckled softly, the kid could be such a cat sometimes. Selina would be proud.

Tim slowly shifted till they were both laying down on the bed.He pulled the rest of the blankets up and settled underneath them. Work could wait, he wouldn’t dare leave Damian now.

After a while, the smallest bat’s breathing evened out, and Tim let loose a sigh of relief. Damian was asleep. 

Tim let himself relax only then, now that he was sure Damian could get some rest. He didn’t move, finding the cuddling quite comfortable. He just closed his eyes, pushing thoughts of cases and deadlines from his mind.

Damian was the most important. He wasn’t going to worry about anything other than his brother.

Tim sighed contentedly. He spoke once more, before sleep overtook him. Using the arabic word for brother that Damian strictly regulated the use of - for both himself and others. Tim didn’t learn arabic - which regretted now that it was his youngest brother’s first language - but he’d picked up a few small words here and there, which Damian seemed to find comforting.

Tim kissed his brother’s forehead one last time.

“Goodnight, Ahki.”

  
  



End file.
